Little Red
by Black Lightning Bulb
Summary: When the cure wore off Little Red decided to lead youngs pups to there doom.


Rouge moved away after the Professor died and all her hopes of ever feeling died with him.

First X-Men, had fun writing it though, tried a kind of diff. style. at least i think it's diff.

* * *

The cure had worn off only three months after it had been administered. She had put Bobby in the intensive care unit just as she had to Cody. She had sat by him for a little while with Kitty, who had paced frequently around the room only to sit back down, become so distracted that she would 'slip' through her chair, then get up and pace again. She had gone to bed before Kitty, then packed her things and left out the window. She took one of the nastier cars, and 1989 Volvo that one of the other X-men had driven here and left in the garage. WASH ME was written in huge letters on the back wind shield.

She had headed for Big Bad New York, but had later decided too many memories. White hair, many mutants, cold hands, new style.

She had then gone back home for a while which led to awful times. Questions, comas, old clothes, concerned parents, bank.

She had picked up some money and headed to Miami. To hot, to many bugs, to many people to bump into, not enough cloth to cover there bodies.

She had decided the further away the better and had headed to Chicago. Just right, cool hair, no past, here's a job, wear the gloves.

She still felt something was missing though. She wanted someone to feel her, to touch her, to pet her, to love her. But that could never happen, and she wasn't satisfied.

One night she went to a bar after work to drink away her troubles. A man picked her up smooth talking her with words of empty promises. He held her hand, and the gloves were necessary, because winters are cold in Chicago. He took her up to his apartment where he kissed her. Tongue in, hands on boobs, take off your clothes before you die. He started to shake over her form, and then she remembered she was a freak, but she didn't care. He pulled away and asked what was going on, and she said shush don't talk, and kissed him again. Then he fell limp on the floor.

She went out the next night, where another man picked her up with smooth words and empty promises. He looked like he was on seventeen, and definitely shouldn't be in a bar. He took her back to his hotel, his hand in her back pocket the whole time. She had no qualms when she left his limp body on the floor.

This went on for months and she gather a name for herself as one of the hardest serial killers to catch, and the media had dubbed her Kissing Jane Death. She laughed to herself in private when ever she read the line out loud.

Tonight was different though. She was going to a new hotspot. A place called DOND which was proclaiming to be the next big thing in club history. She got in somehow and worked her way to the bar. Someone tapped her on the shoulder and asked if he could buy a pretty gal a drink. She turned to see the stranger, and she flinched, when he smirked. It was New York City, and home, and Miami all over but worse because he had gone everywhere with her and was here with her in every single one of those places. "Logan."

"Rogue."

"I go by my God given name now."

"I didn't know your name was Jane."

She knew the jig was up, and looked down at her whiskey downing it in one gulp. He touched her shoulder and she shrugged him off. He grabbed her wrist and she pulled away.

"Go home Logan. I have a new life."

"Killing people for fun. Everyday but Sunday, at least you have morals."

"Storm send you?"

"I sent myself kid."

"Then send yourself back."

She walked off and he didn't follow her, but she saw a man by the door and walked up to him turning on the southern charm. Even though, really her southern charm is always on and everyone who knows her, which is really no one but the other voices from people she has killed or those who she had touched, so only she knew that her southern charm was always on. He looked her up and down and touched her white streak of hair. Sexy, he muttered, before taking her back to his apartment.

As she walked out, after reapplying her lipstick, thinking she would maybe try for a double because tonight she was feeling particularly lost and confused and she just wanted someone to mutter and groan and moan for her. Then she saw him standing on a street corner, smoking a cigar in his leather jacket. He looked her up and down, knowing secretly what she had done.

"Go home Logan."

"Come with me Marie."

"It's Rogue."

"I thought it was Jane."

That stung low and she walked off towards a bar that she knew was close by. The previous man was muttering that he looked cool, she was a bitch, but god could she kiss. She told him to shut the hell up. Logan followed her, walking besides her.

"McCoy thinks he's figured out away for the cure to actually work. For real this time. It will last."

"Stop teasing me Logan."

"I'm not teasing you. I would never tease you."

"You always have Logan."

"What?"

She had caught him off guard and she knew who her new target was. She pushed him against a wall, kissing him fiercely, not waiting for him to react. But he did, and she felt something starting to throb in her heart as his memories pulsed into her, and his lips and skin started to grow parched and dry. She pulled back finding an memory that she didn't like, a memory that didn't agree with her.

"Shit Marie."

He slumped down against the wall, his head in his hand and his cigar burning a hole through his jeans. How had he held on to it?

"Go home Logan."

"I promised I would bring you back."

"I promised myself I would never go back."

"He has it, and we can do that more often. You'll forget this."

She wanted his offer; she wanted his muscles, his tags, his smell, his hair, his everything. She wanted everything he could offer. Everything he couldn't offer. She hated when she realized she couldn't. "It's too late to go back now. Come back to my apartment."

She was little red riding hood leading the unsuspecting wolf to his doom.


End file.
